by Nicole Snow
He thinks he's a victim. Thinks he's in the right to march back in our lives after half a decade and turn everything upside down again.
He's maddeningly set on ruining Jace, blaming him for...I don't even know.
My brother was an idiot. He was up to his neck in their scheme, too dumb to realize he was getting played by Trent's brains.
But Jace isn't malicious. He wasn't steering that mess. I'll never believe it.
He couldn't have possibly orchestrated the filth they found in the burned out hulk of my crashed convertible, abandoned on a remote stretch of coast outside Olympia, the car bloody with DNA we never had tested because we decided to show mercy...
No. Hell no.
My brother's not that stupid. He's not an actual criminal. More like a gullible accomplice.
I swallow hard, craning my neck, trying to spot Trent in the crowd. One of the cops is sick of my tight-lipped act. He spins me around, mutters something to an EMT about “checking the lady for a concussion,” and reminds us the building's being evacuated.
I'm too dizzy to ask why. I just hear his voice in the corner, incredulous, defiant. “What the hell do you mean? I'm not going anywhere. I've got a trip to the thirtieth floor to make and I'm not leaving –”
“Sir, whatever business you have will have to wait. Building's closed. Sustained too much damage from the power outage, the elevator crash. It started a fire on the first floor that took us hours to control. Same reason it took so long getting up here.”
“Fire?” It's the last word I hear on Trent's lips.
Then there's a flurry of hands around me, grabbing for mine, helping me through the steel door. They treat me like a toddler learning to walk. It takes forever to get downstairs and pass through the door to sweet freedom on the floor above the lobby.
And when I'm on ground level again, waiting outside the yellow emergency tape and cones for a taxi, it's a fight not to rush back inside through the chaos, through the billion cops.
Yes, I'm ground down, dazzled by the fresh morning air, and chilled by the nightmare I just survived.
And I still want to strangle Trent Usher. Right after I find out what happened the past few years to turn him into a self-righteous prick living an alternate reality.
“Don't be stupid,” I tell myself, whispering under my breath as a blue and white cab pulls up.
He wants me in stitches. Limping home with questions rattling my brain. Trent would love it if I gave him more rent in my head than he really deserves, and as hard as it is to forget what just happened, I need to try.
The ride to the hotel takes forever in the early morning rush hour traffic. I barely remember to tip the driver. My brain is on fire, begging for sleep. Good, nourishing rest – not the two or three choppy hours that left a kink in my neck, broken by Mr. I-Need-to-Pee pounding on the door.
I don't know why I think I'll win that game where you try not to think about something. It never works.
But, I'm trying my damnedest, the whole way up to my room. I take the stairs, skipping out on the elevator. It'll be a good long while before I'm comfortable in a metal box again, even though the climb finishes off my knees.
At last, peace and quiet. The huge king-sized bed in the middle of the room beckons like the world's best chocolate – something I'm sure I'll seek out later to kill the sugar craving pulsing in my stressed out veins. I yank the curtains shut, wash my face, and crash down in the pillows face first, inwardly cursing his name every spare second.
Screw you. This isn't over.
When I have the energy and the heart and the focus to track you down, I will.
Cryptic words won't save you next time.
Two can play at ripping old wounds open.
And it just so happens I've got an arsenal of salt to pour.
Six Years Ago
"I'll talk to Maxwell. You have my word.” His palms sweep across my face and my heart pounds happily in my ears.
Tonight those big hands hold the world, so many promises, only outdone by the gorgeous shine in his eyes.
It's a seductive one, too. The wet, tense heat pools between my legs, fiercer by the second, twisting my belly in knots.
This...this is happening. Holy hell.
I shift against him, leaning forward slightly, brushing my lips on his. Just kiss me again. Please.
But Trent isn't done talking, no matter how seductively I try to run my fingers up his huge biceps. "Now, much as I like your folks, they're the last fucking thing I want to talk about while I'm breaking you in."
Thunder rumbles in his throat. The next time our lips touch, it's perfection.
Hot and wet and so electric.
Incandescent. The fire in my lower belly flares through me, igniting everything in its wake, plucking every nerve.
My nipples call to him beneath my gown. My thighs pinch shut, seeking sweet friction.
Just a brief flash of relief from this inferno pulsing in my core. His hand sweeps down my back the longer we kiss.
Tongues and hands and bodies unite, finding their natural rhythm.
I need more. Now. A need so potent it's making me delirious.
Trent's knees knock gently against mine. His lips dive bomb mine again, then pull back, making me beg. Then he hauls me up, wraps my legs around his body, and takes us to bed.
I crash down under him with a whimper. His hands trawl my legs, feeding new flames, a sultry look in his majestic blue eyes that says, tonight you'll bare your all, Precious, and I will fucking take it.
No argument here. It's been an insane few weeks.
Ever since the kiss on Bainbridge, the catalyst that never should've followed a volley of insults, we've been inseparable. It's shocking how fast things change.
I'm even more shocked my stupid brother hasn't noticed, but then, he's been busy juggling Lindsey and that skank, Georgia, again. Both at once. Behind each others' back.
No, I'm not letting my ex-best friend know. If she wants to keep hooking up with Jace, she'll learn his faults the hard way.
I'm doing the same with Trent, aren't I? Risking my heart?
Fair is fair.
Oh, but there's nothing fair about how my body tingles when his lips stamp a soft line up my throat. His fingers lace through my hair, bringing my face to his again and again. He pauses for breath, pressing his forehead against mine. We share a moment drunk on wanton anticipation, sex and fire mingling in our veins.
“Get this thing off, Presh. Show me every inch of you.” He gives my shoulder strap a fierce tug, making room for me to sit, helping me up with his hands.
So, this is it. My teeth dig into my bottom lip while I grab the hem, lift it up, peeling it off my body.
Just panties underneath. Soaked in a way I desperately want to hide.
Nothing escapes his eyes. I'm more naked, more vulnerable, more turned on than I've ever been.
Trent notices the wet heat pooling between my legs. Shoving his hand in my cleft, he toys with me through the drenched fabric, stroking my labia. “Fucking hell, darling. You need it bad. Almost as bad as I do.”
I nod. Awestruck that a man like him could be tangled up in the same wild urges ripping through me.
This is wrong on so many levels, and it's never been more right.
I wasn't supposed to go down like this. Not with him.
Dad always hoped I'd find someone richer, softer, probably older and wiser. But no other boy ever would've captured my heart from the very first kiss.
No other boy would've made me wait years, want and hate locking swords in my heart, begging for the day we'd put that all aside and sort our issues out in the flesh.
Today. Tonight. Now.
Trent's teasing fingers quicken their strokes while his mouth collides with mine, pushing me into the bed again. A groan spills out of him and his tongue returns to mine. It's my turn to moan when his fingers find my clit.
What sweet hell is this? What agony? It's a delicious torture, a needy pleasure,
numbing my senses. Everything dulls except the lightning heat in my nerves screaming more.
“Trent!” I whimper, once his fingers find their pace. I'm close to breathless.
Growling, he shoves my panties aside, the better for his fingertips to stroke my naked pussy.
I'm coming apart.
They tease my entrance, but don't quite force their way in.
“Look at me, woman,” he rumbles, slowing his frantic strokes until I meet his eyes. “This is what's haunted my dreams since the first day I laid eyes on you. This is what I've wanted. This is where my dick belongs. This, beautiful, is my pussy now. And after I've had it, neither one of us will ever be the same.”
There's a wicked weight in his words. A truth that adds more fuel to my pulse. I reach for his neck, winding my fingers down his skin, loving how strong, how big, how powerful this man actually is.
He wouldn't be here if it were any other way. The bigger question is whether I can handle him.
It's a serious, pointed question, too, just a second later, when he rears up, pulling on his belt. Once it's unclasped, he pauses, a vicious smirk on his lips. “Take a good long look, Amy Kay. You want a peepshow, you'll get it.”
His face disappears behind his shirt as it rolls over his head. In the years since I've seen him shirtless, he's become sculpted. All tight muscle packed on manly bones, big and broad enough to end the world. There's a smattering of ink on one shoulder, connecting to the black lightning coursing up one arm. A majestic wolf's face that wasn't there a few summers ago catches my eye.
“What's this for?” I whisper, my fingers gingerly reaching out, marveling at his muscle. The design fits him perfectly, glowing on his skin like a brand for a dark angel.
“It's a reminder, Presh. Tells me I've got the heart, the will, the drive to do anything I set my mind to. Also lets me know I'm a pack animal, however much I wish it weren't true. Wolves defend their kin like nothing you've ever seen. Saw it in a documentary once.” Something about that makes me smile, the idea of big, tough, brainy Trent kicking back in a chair, watching a nature show.
“They'll rip the whole world to shit if the people they love are threatened. Call it dumb, I don't care, there's something noble there.”
“That's why we're getting naked? So you can talk about your favorite animals?” Teasing, I run my fingers down his chest, suppressing a lustful shudder. I've reached his abs, and oh my God...chiseled isn't even the right word.
They're a coiled six pack. Maybe even eight. Just one look, one gentle touch, makes me imagine what they can do, how many different ways they help his godly body twist and fight and fuck.
“You know damn well why I came by tonight,” he growls, his blue eyes turning darker. “Next words I hear out of your mouth better be screams, Precious. You've given me plenty of grief with that mouth, and I'd be a liar if I said I haven't imagined all the ways I'll wash that sass right out.”
And how.
The bastard kisses me, shutting up my playful tongue. My little fingers haven't lost their fight, though. They hook in his half-open belt and tug. He breaks the kiss, gives me a sexy smile, and then hooks his hands on his jeans, fingering the loops. “Thanks for your patience, ma'am. Special delivery.”
“Dork!” Even through the killer heat throbbing in my veins, I push him gently in the ribs, laughing as he rips his jeans down.
Silence reigns the second I see the outline of his cock. “Don't worry. I'll teach you to suck the hell out of this in good time. For now, I've got bigger plans...”
I'm blushing like the excited, scared virgin I truly am as he stands at the edge of the bed, steps up to me, and grabs my hand. He moves it to his boxer's waistband, pinching my fingers tight. “Go ahead. Open your present. It's Christmas morning.”
It's mid-July, and we both know it. I'm far too curious to laugh at his ridiculousness this time.
I give it a vicious tug. There's an elastic snap, a helping push from his hands, and then –
“Holy. Shit.” I don't know what pops out faster: my words or my eyes. They both want to leave my body the second I see what he's been hiding.
It's thick. It's enormous. It's as hard and determined and maybe a little pissed off as the rest of him.
Trent wraps a fist around the base, gives it a squeeze, and pushes his fingers up to the swollen head. A string of pearly liquid flows out his opening. For a girl who's never seen a penis in the flesh before, I'm stuck on the size. There's no hiding the fact he's huge, and I'm forced to wonder all over again if I'm physically ready for this.
But that question seems less relevant by the nano-second. He pulls my hand to his shaft. New heat screams in my blood the instant I feel his fullness, warm and tense and pulsing.
“Just like that, yeah. Give it a few more pulls before my tongue takes over.”
Tongue? I don't get what he's talking about as I give his throbbing, gorgeous cock a few quick pumps.
I don't understand until his lips start at my bare shoulder, arcing down, down, down. Trent palms my right breast, pulling the nipple with his teeth. It's sharp and brusk and oh so warming.
Hello, master. Now, I know.
This tongue knows what it's doing, and so do his lips. Every time he lifts back, encircling my breasts, the sweet tension sends new shocks through my body.
I'm writhing on his hand, helpless for his fingers, pinching my thighs shut. Trent growls, grinding his fingers harder against my pussy, taking my left breast in his stormy mouth.
My pussy aches. My heart beats a firm relentless thud in my temples.
I'm not in Kansas anymore. Or Washington. Or anywhere in the same universe.
The beast on top of me rockets pleasure through my body, bringing me closer to my very first O with a man.
Oh, and what an O.
What a brutal, glorious, soul splitting O it will be.
“Presh, spread your legs. Lift your butt. These are coming the hell off now.” His head slips down and his rough arms pin my legs against his shoulders. His teeth carefully but swiftly hook to my panties and pull.
They saunter down my legs in one quick burst. Raw need roars through me.
There's nothing but his pulse, this heat, this wild, wild fire pining for his touch. His head snaps to the side and I hear the faint sound of my bottoms hitting the floor.
“Please, Trent,” I whisper. “Please. Show me what that tongue can do.”
My mouth isn't the only one that's been hell for us in the past. The things he's done to me over the years with those piercing eyes, that Herculean body, those whip-sharp lips, and every word they give...
It ends here tonight in a licking, tangled mess. Or does it ever end?
I can't tell where I begin as soon as his kisses land on my thighs. He moves between them in perfect balance, crawling up my legs, feeding the inner flames.
Trent pauses, lips against my swollen pussy, hot breath wafting a tease. The first flick of his tongue on my clit splits me in two.
He growls into me, holding my legs apart, intoxicated on my scent, my taste, my pleading hips. Every movement, every harsh whimper, every moan urges him on. His tongue quickens, dipping inside me, lashing my inner walls.
It's filthy and delightful and I think – oh, God! – I think I don't have a prayer.
I can't last long.
There's barely time to throw my hands over my head, clench the sheets in angry fistfuls, and suppress a scream.
Hell, screw suppressing. Good thing my parents aren't home.
His tongue starts on my clit. I can't even dream of staying muffled. I'm over in a bellow, a flash of legs shaking on his shoulders, a convulsion. The fireball in my lower belly explodes, pouring out, bathing my brain in pleasure.
I come on his face. I come so hard it hurts.
Pinching my teeth together, drowning in his frantic licks, yanked into the undertow by the fiery rings he traces between my legs. They all scream this mantra: don't fucking stop, Precious. Come for me. Come har
d. Come now.
And I do. I so freaking do.
Pleasure yawns wide with his face working overtime, swallows me up, and seems to go on forever. But even this delicious madness has to end. I come down from my high, white-knuckling the sheets, my vision finally working again.
I'm just in time to see Trent Usher drawing my legs up as he kneels between them, wonderfully naked. He's the pinnacle of oh, fuck and so fucking hot. His abs draw my eyes, a perfect view between my legs, still shaking as he pins them against his body.
Something soft and metallic glistens in one hand. His teeth tear the corner as he raises it to his lips. A condom, I realize, watching him roll it onto his pulsing length a second later. Then his fullness is against me, hard and thick and ready.
“Any last words as a virgin, Presh? Be quick.” He pinches my legs tighter against his rock hard body.
“Just take me,” I say, eyes locked on his, amazed how bad my cunt wants him again so soon after coming on his mouth. I stiffen, grinding my wetness against his cock, greedy and impatient. “Fuck me, Trent Usher.”
The spark in his eye goes from admiring to feral. Then his hips plow forward, crashing into mine, feeding his hardness into me.
My back arches. Pain and pleasure and a little shred of panic explode in my brain. But I fight through the bad parts, determined to take this, to make my first time something I'll remember on my deathbed.
That part is easy.
How could I forget the glint in his eye as he mounts me for the first time, claiming my flesh?
How could I forget the fierce ripple of muscle in the moonlight, or how the wolf moves on his skin as he digs in to the hilt?
How could I ever forget the slow, powerful thrusts forming my body to his?
They come in a steady wave, fusing us, making my pussy fit him like silk.
“Trent!” I whimper the one word I'm able to remember as he fucks me.
“So tight, Presh. So good. So goddamned mine tonight.” He's able to talk because I guess he's done this a thousand times.
But there's a wicked satisfaction when I see his face contort. He's holding back, controlling the full power thrusts, fighting the need to give it to me like I'm just another warm, wet place for his cock to take control.
